Zoe? Call me whenever you want to.’
‘Yes, Gran. If Mummy lets me.’
Outside Kathy felt the tears threatening to flow. Even Jack’s lilac tree couldn’t stop the pain. As she walked down the path, she heard the vacuum cleaner start up and her grief turned to anger.
Chapter 5
The small front garden, deep in weeds and grass, hid several items; Matt guessed at a bike, maybe a couple of tyres with the rest unidentifiable. Mrs James led them past with a mumbled apology.
Inside was a complete contrast, for although the furniture was shabby, even Matt noticed how tidy it was. A photo of Jonathan stood on the mantelpiece, another on the sideboard and another on the bookcase, all showing a grinning boy aged about eight or nine.
‘Please sit down.’ She rushed to move the TV remote and straighten the cushions on the sofa, but she remained standing. She seemed unable to stay still, fidgeting about the room to flick a speck of dust from the table or straighten one of Jonathan’s photos.
Matt and Jane sat on the lumpy sofa. ‘Thank you. We are really sorry for your loss, Mrs James,’ Matt said.
Mrs James nodded, unable to reply.
‘As you know, we have yet to establish how Jonathan died.’
Again the nod, face turned away from them. Matt sent an appealing look to Jane, who was the expert in dealing with this kind of situation. She gave a brief nod and stood, moving to stand in front of Mary.
‘Mrs James, we’d like you to help us to find out what happened to Jonathan and who he was with on the night he died.’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he was doing. And I…well, I’d given up asking. He did mention someone called Nod or Noddy once.’
‘Do you know his real name?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘Might Jonathan and his friends have become involved in the drug scene?’
Mrs James turned away from her, anger in her voice. ‘No.’
‘How can you be so certain, Mrs James?’
‘He hated the stuff.’
‘Hated?’
‘One of his friends died from using. Poor kid was only ten. Thought my lad was done with tears, what with all the knocking about he took. But he was in bits, crying in my lap. Last time I ever saw him like that though. He hardened up after that. Became more like his dad.’ Mary was still for a moment, thinking. ‘That’s when I really lost him.’
She moved to straighten the small statue of a spaniel on the mantelpiece. The statue appeared decrepit and had lost part of its ear, yet she handled it like a priceless work of art.
‘Present. School trip when he was nine.’
‘We realise this is difficult, Mrs James. But it’s tough on the streets. Might Jonathan have been dragged into something you didn’t know about?’ Jane asked.
‘No. No way. I know what you’re thinking.’
Matt couldn’t help asking. ‘What are we thinking, Mrs James?’
Jane shot him a glance of don’t interfere.
‘He was a tearaway, getting into all sorts of trouble. I know that.’
Matt thought Jonathan James was much more than a tearaway, but kept quiet and waited.
‘It’s only me who can remember how he was, before.’ Mrs James moved away from Jane and sat next to Matt on the sofa. ‘He was a cheerful little lad. Reminded me of my dad. Then Vince said he was growing up and needed a man’s hand. That’s what he got. The back of his hand for as much as a word. What I got too if I tried to stop him. I watched my little lad turn sullen, resentful and then hard, like his dad.’
‘Sounds like there was little you could do,’ Matt agreed.
‘No. But I remember how he was and I know that lad was still inside, buried under all the slaps and beatings.’ Mrs James’s face began to crumple and tears ran down her cheeks.
Matt put his arm around her, letting her cry on his shoulder, despite departmental policy and Jane raising her eyebrows at him. She needed someone on her side.
‘Sorry.’
Mrs James pulled back and Matt offered his hankie. She began to dab at her eyes. Matt knew it was
‘Yes, Gran. If Mummy lets me.’
Outside Kathy felt the tears threatening to flow. Even Jack’s lilac tree couldn’t stop the pain. As she walked down the path, she heard the vacuum cleaner start up and her grief turned to anger.
Chapter 5
The small front garden, deep in weeds and grass, hid several items; Matt guessed at a bike, maybe a couple of tyres with the rest unidentifiable. Mrs James led them past with a mumbled apology.
Inside was a complete contrast, for although the furniture was shabby, even Matt noticed how tidy it was. A photo of Jonathan stood on the mantelpiece, another on the sideboard and another on the bookcase, all showing a grinning boy aged about eight or nine.
‘Please sit down.’ She rushed to move the TV remote and straighten the cushions on the sofa, but she remained standing. She seemed unable to stay still, fidgeting about the room to flick a speck of dust from the table or straighten one of Jonathan’s photos.
Matt and Jane sat on the lumpy sofa. ‘Thank you. We are really sorry for your loss, Mrs James,’ Matt said.
Mrs James nodded, unable to reply.
‘As you know, we have yet to establish how Jonathan died.’
Again the nod, face turned away from them. Matt sent an appealing look to Jane, who was the expert in dealing with this kind of situation. She gave a brief nod and stood, moving to stand in front of Mary.
‘Mrs James, we’d like you to help us to find out what happened to Jonathan and who he was with on the night he died.’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he was doing. And I…well, I’d given up asking. He did mention someone called Nod or Noddy once.’
‘Do you know his real name?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘Might Jonathan and his friends have become involved in the drug scene?’
Mrs James turned away from her, anger in her voice. ‘No.’
‘How can you be so certain, Mrs James?’
‘He hated the stuff.’
‘Hated?’
‘One of his friends died from using. Poor kid was only ten. Thought my lad was done with tears, what with all the knocking about he took. But he was in bits, crying in my lap. Last time I ever saw him like that though. He hardened up after that. Became more like his dad.’ Mary was still for a moment, thinking. ‘That’s when I really lost him.’
She moved to straighten the small statue of a spaniel on the mantelpiece. The statue appeared decrepit and had lost part of its ear, yet she handled it like a priceless work of art.
‘Present. School trip when he was nine.’
‘We realise this is difficult, Mrs James. But it’s tough on the streets. Might Jonathan have been dragged into something you didn’t know about?’ Jane asked.
‘No. No way. I know what you’re thinking.’
Matt couldn’t help asking. ‘What are we thinking, Mrs James?’
Jane shot him a glance of don’t interfere.
‘He was a tearaway, getting into all sorts of trouble. I know that.’
Matt thought Jonathan James was much more than a tearaway, but kept quiet and waited.
‘It’s only me who can remember how he was, before.’ Mrs James moved away from Jane and sat next to Matt on the sofa. ‘He was a cheerful little lad. Reminded me of my dad. Then Vince said he was growing up and needed a man’s hand. That’s what he got. The back of his hand for as much as a word. What I got too if I tried to stop him. I watched my little lad turn sullen, resentful and then hard, like his dad.’
‘Sounds like there was little you could do,’ Matt agreed.
‘No. But I remember how he was and I know that lad was still inside, buried under all the slaps and beatings.’ Mrs James’s face began to crumple and tears ran down her cheeks.
Matt put his arm around her, letting her cry on his shoulder, despite departmental policy and Jane raising her eyebrows at him. She needed someone on her side.
‘Sorry.’
Mrs James pulled back and Matt offered his hankie. She began to dab at her eyes. Matt knew it was
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